


Of Venegance and Redemption

by RavenShira



Series: The Light to your Shadow [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Blackwatch Genji Shimada, Body Horror, Body Modification, F/M, I Should Stop Now, Injury Recovery, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Now that I'm reading this... It sounds worse than it is?, POV Genji Shimada, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:34:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23606020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenShira/pseuds/RavenShira
Summary: Shimada Genji was supposed to die that day, of that he was quite sure. Being‘rescued’as his captors called it, dragged to a different place and having little to no control over what happened to him or his body, he didn’t think he was quite the same anymore.Couldn’t be.Trying to find a new purpose in life he settled on the one that seemed logical:Vengeance.This is a companion story to "Of Mercy and Recovery" from Genji's POV. Both can be read as stand-alone.
Relationships: Genji Shimada/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Series: The Light to your Shadow [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699147
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. The Rescue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [auberghyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/auberghyn/gifts).

> Might become a collaboration later on! Also, I'm a slow writer and I have a lot of open projects. You have been warned.

“_Stop it, Genji!”_

Everything hurt.

“_If only…! I wouldn’t have to do this, if only you would stop with your nonsense!”_

Everything but his arm, a burning, all consuming ache that settled deep into his bones, deeper and deeper until it buried itself deep into his marrow. A pure liquid agony was burning through his veins as he laid on the ground bleeding and broken.

“_If you are not standing with me...”_

He couldn’t feel his arm though. Not really. There had been a searing pain in the initial attack but afterwards...

“… _then you are my enemy.”_

There was still a numb disbelief hidden deep in the recess of his mind. His brother… his older sibling… he wouldn’t…!

“_I’m sorry, Genji.”_

Oh, but he did. A broken, bubbling laugh hacked its way out of his clogged throat, blood staining his lips. But there was so much blood, it wouldn’t make a difference. His sight grew dizzy and the numbness spread, taking some of the agony that had lasted for hours away. Smoke filled the building, the fire of their fight consuming the area around them. A funeral fire, for the perceived traitor.

“_You are no brother of mine.”_

Shimada Genji was dying. Slowly, alone and by hand and will of his brother. It was almost laughable, if it wasn’t so sad. It was only now, minutes, hours, eons after their fight that Genji felt the urge to cry. He could feel the energy of his dragon press close to his mind, curling around it as they shared their last breaths together. If he did regret anything, it was that he was dragging the mighty creature that had deemed him worthy with him in death.

Genji closed his eyes, letting go and hoped the end would come quick.

“_I’m sorry… I’m so sorry...”_

His surroundings grew hazy, his body became heavy and a relieving numbness encompassed him. A new wave of hot and burning agony nearly brought him back, making him flinch and choke on a silent scream.

“_Forgive me.”_

Genji screamed. Smoke and ash whirled around him, some of it still hot, so hot that Genji imagined it could have been the scales of a dragon scraping over his skin. The smell of burning flesh invaded his senses, making him scourge up what little energy he had left to try and drag himself away. His tears evaporated in the flames, silent offerings pleading for mercy that wouldn't come.

“_Die.”_

Genjis fingers reached forward, his fingertips just barely grazing the end of his discarded sword. Anything would be better than this agony and even near mindless from the pain Genji knew there was no escape, not unless he brought a quick end upon himself. The shrine was burning, the fire reaching with greedy flames for the helpless sacrifice.

He _couldn't_ get his sword.

He couldn't _get_ his sword.

A desperate howl of frustration, of anger, of hate, and pain and agony and loneliness left Genji as the fire started to consume him. Let them hear, he thought desperately. Let _**him**_ hear and bear this memory for the rest of his miserable life.

Genji cried, sobbed and curled up as best as he could, still trying to escape but unable to save himself. There was no strength left, his blood was soaking the wooden floorboards, the blood already drying from the intense heat. He screamed as the fire curled around him, a white hot ember of pain crawling agonizingly slow up his body.

His last conscious memory was of the feeling of utter betrayal, terrible pain and all consuming fire.

三 三 三(ꉂ **⋋** ︿ **⋌** )ﾉ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

“-someo-.. -ere!”

…

“-alive!”

…

“Moi-… to c-… -ickly!”

…

“-ey… pal... Han-…!”

…

“-IR-!”

…

“-arefu-”

…

“… -vac-… -iliz-…”

…

…

…

…

…

“-lipping. I nee- … … … bl- … … dr-…!”

…

“… me s- … … … essur-...”

“-ICH AR-”

“… MISS-…!”

…

“-imada… … … -ation…”

…

…

…

…

…

…

… …

… … …

… … … …

… … … “-s he…?”

… … … …

… … …

… …

…

…

…

Time passed...

… and passed…

… and Genji felt himself fade...

三 三 三(ꉂ **⋋** ︿ **⋌** )ﾉ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ  
  


Sometimes... sometimes Genji was aware enough to recognize more than the bare minimum. Not enough to form coherent thoughts, but he noticed little details. The small room devoid of light that he was kept in. The stale smell of sweat and pain that lingered in the air or at times the stinging one of poultries that were used to keep him alive. Even though the room was bare except for the bed he was on and the machines he was hooked on that were monitoring his state. It was clean but cold. The hands touching him, rough and almost careless as they redressed his wounds. A wash of gold that left him feeling a bit better before he got worse again. Strangers that came and went, the steady noise of the machines in the room. Sometimes he thought he could smell the death creeping upon him, between the pain and the helplessness of his state. Snipplets, broken pieces of time passing him by. Enough to know his situation. Enough to know he was a prisoner, that they kept alive just barely in hopes of getting information. He didn't know when he first realized this, but when he did he felt something inside him... break. And wither. Some little part of himself that he had managed to keep alive, even after the fight. A small part Genji had always tried to protect despite what his family was. What they tried to mold him into.

It felt like he was burning all over again.

It felt like … hell.

三 三 三(ꉂ **⋋** ︿ **⋌** )ﾉ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

The world was a haze of pain as Genji drifted in and out of consciousness. There were people around, sometimes. Strangers that spoke in a language that Genji couldn’t truly fathom in his current state. It sounded familiar, yet at the same time not. Not his mother language, that much Genji was sure of, but the words and vowels seemed familiar, if out of reach. Their hands were rough, ignorant of his already shattered body, or just simply careless. They wanted information, but that was about all Genji could ascertain.

Pain traded off with agony, before a brief period of numbness offered him a little reprieve of the cycle. When he was awake, the strangers tried to talk to him, their voices distorted and fading in and out, just as much as his sight flickered between hazy and dark. Sometimes he even tried to reply to them, to tell them he _couldn’t_ understand. He wasn’t sure if he was successful, but he doubted it. The broken sounds that passed his lips couldn't be more than unintelligible moans and grunts of discomfort and pain.

And then they started to let him recover, only to break him apart again once he had gained a minimum of strength. At some point he thought he had begged them. Begged them to let him die and end this miserable existence, if it could be called that. His body was… broken. Beyond repair, Genji was sure. He was an assassin himself, reluctant but nevertheless true. He knew the damage a body could withstand and his fight with his- with… with **him** had been vicious. And to the death, that was clinging to Genji's form like a parasite, sapping his strength.

Time was a concept that seemed to stretch into eternity. Genji knew it was due to the pain, making seconds stretch endlessly before him. The brief periods of a painless existence were only due to drugs that left him unable to think, yet gave him enough rest to keep a bare minimum of strength that allowed him to cling to life, whether he wanted to or not.

He didn’t know who they were, the people keeping him alive. He didn’t know why they cared if he lived or died. He also didn’t know what exactly they wanted. He couldn't bring himself to care beyond that they wouldn't let him fade away.

He didn’t know a lot of things.

But after a while he did know that whatever kept him alive... it wasn't enough, not anymore. And Genji was relieved. He wanted the pain to end, the indignity, the… inhuman treatment that he couldn’t deny. He was left in his own despair more often than not, and sometimes in his own body fluids until someone remembered him. In a way, Genji was glad that he was barely aware most of the times now. He could feel it, that his body was slipping beyond their grasp and that it wouldn't be much longer until he would know peace, if that was even possible for him. Then at least, Genji hoped, the constant pain would disappear, and he would be beyond the reach of his tormentors.

It was then, that things... changed. He was barely awake anymore, most days melding together as they had for some time now, pain an echo in his broken body. But he did become aware of them, little by little. The air smelled fresher and the constant pain seemed to fade into something more tolerable, letting him finally rest for more instead of for just survival.

And Genji... Genji wanted to hate them. Hate them for prolonging the inevitable. For finding a way to bring him back from the brink of peace after all, just when it had seemed that he had escaped their cruelty. Escaped the nightmares of reality, escaped an existence that Genji wasn’t sure was worth living, not when he didn’t think there was any purpose left for him.

Something had changed. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but whatever treatment they had put him on seemed to work, even though Genji wasn’t sure if that was for the better or not.

It would mean he would live…

… But at what cost.


	2. The Recovery

…

_Beep._

…

_Beep._

…

_Beep._

Carefully, Genji moved the fingertips over the sheet he was lying on.

_Beep._

…

_Beep._

…

_Beep._

It was smooth, cotton. For the first time in ages Genji didn’t feel the battering of pain against his senses, nor the hazy film of drugs upon his mind.

_Beep._

…

_Beep._

…

_Beep._

“Oh. You are awake?” A distinctly feminine voice with a weird accent asked. Genji stilled on instinct, even as his heart jumped for a moment.

_Beep. Beep._

…

_Beep. Beep._

…

_Beep._

“Can you hear me?”

Soft hands, no, only the fingertips carefully made contact with his own. It took effort to not flinch, and Genji wasn't entirely sure if he just had enough self control or simply not enough strength to even react in that small way.

_Beep. Beep._

“Hmm...”

It took some effort to sort out which muscle moved what and even more to slowly peel his crusted eyes open.

“Oh. There you are.”

For a moment, everything was blurry. Genji carefully and slowly blinked and some focus returned. A woman, leaning slightly towards him while obviously trying not to crowd him, was hovering at his side.

“Welcome back, stranger.” She smiled, sun-wheat coloured hair spilling just a little past her shoulders. Her eyes were a sparkling blue that reminded him of the cloudless sky. She was dressed in a strange blue uniform that didn't seem to be standard issue hospital wear. Stupidly Genji stared at her and for a moment wondered if he had died after all.

“W-wh-” His throat felt desert dry and filled with sand, hurting even more as he tried to swallow past the pain. Startled, she then hurried to take a pitcher and a glass of water from the bedside table. As she poured some water – not much – into the glass, a gentle hand helped him lift his head before the rim of the glass settled against his lips and was carefully tilted until he could sip from it. It was such a relief to feel the cool of the water run down his throat. Genji hated how weak he must appear.

“My name is Angela Ziegler. I’m a Doctor for Overwatch.”

Again Genji took a moment to comprehend what she was saying. Even though his mind was finally clear from the drugs, his head felt heavy and the thoughts were slow even as they spun, confused and disoriented as he tried to remember what had happened. Overwatch. He knew the name, didn't he?

“A-Angel-?”

She chuckled.

“Angela. You can also call me Doctor Ziegler, if you prefer.”

三 三 三(ꉂ **⋋** ︿ **⋌** )ﾉ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Genji stared at the calendar, the little electronic device that cheerfully announced that nearly half a year had passed. He felt sick, whenever he thought too much about what had happened. Not only the fight, Genji didn't want to touch those memories with a ten foot pole, even though they resurfaced in regular and vivid nightmares that made him wake in cold sweat and with bile rising to his throat... no, his mind was also going through flashbacks of a different kind, a dark cell, the _pain_, the questions shouted at him. Even worse was the hopelessness he had felt, until he had all but given up, only to be dragged back from final release. The memories were hazy, yet all the same kept him from getting as much rest as he probably should.

Now he was in a clean room. He didn't feel but an echo of the pain, more of a memory than a real sensation. He was still weak, even lifting a spoon to eat the bland soup that was given to him to try and get his stomach used to solids again made his hand shake.

Genji desperately tried not to think on the missing arm. Or what he looked like now. Or generally of his disfigured and weak self.

He didn't recognize himself anymore, it was like someone had grabbed his soul and stuffed it into a broken container that just didn't fit right. He had only taken one small peak at the reflection in the window of his... room. There were scars covering half his face and even more of his body, ugly and deep furrows in his skin where the fire had touched him, where infection had settled and where it had just healed badly.

It was like all the ugliness that Genji was trying to hide inside himself had been dragged to the light.

And he knew... even though the accommodations were different, he knew that he was still a prisoner, still under constant surveillance and that his recovery would only be followed by questions. Though what they expected him to know, now that so much time had passed... Genji didn't know. He knew nothing, not really.

He also didn't know if he should bother keeping whatever little scraps of knowledge he had to himself.

He felt... numb. Maybe the fire had burned more than just his body. Even that sensation felt unsettling and wrong in a way that made him itch to claw at his skin. But even for that, he lacked the strength.

三 三 三(ꉂ **⋋** ︿ **⋌** )ﾉ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

The door opened and the blond Doctor entered, followed by a burly man with light skin, short cropped blond hair and commanding eyes. A soldier, if the way he was holding his body was any indication.

Genjis felt his heart drop to his stomach and struggled to maintain a nonchalant expression. So it seemed the time to recover had passed. A measly few days since waking, enough for him to gain the strength to sit up – even if he had to lean back against the propped up pillows before long.

He pressed his lips together as Doctor Ziegler fussed over him, checking his injuries while the man hovered behind her, his stern gaze watching his every move.

“And how is he.” The man finally asked impatiently after a few awkward moments and Genji saw Doctor Ziegler huff out a near silent breath.

“He's awake and completely able to answer you himself, I imagine. If you understand Japanese.”

It very nearly brought a smile to Genji’s face, but he didn't want them to know he understood English. He wasn’t sure if that wouldn’t make his situation worse and had no reason to trust these people.

“Oh, I think he understands quite well.” The man sighed, his brow furrowing as he stared at Genji in contemplation. The ninja barely resisted to shift uneasily in his bed, uncomfortable with the vulnerability he was showing and his own helpless state that left him at the mercy of these people. And he hated them. Hated that they had saved him, and how long they had kept him alive. Sometimes Genji flashed back to the cell he had been kept in, but even as far gone as he had been… he remembered the voices. He remembered this man talking to someone else. Even if they relocated him… these were the same people that had tortured him and just changing his surroundings wouldn’t work to convince Genji otherwise.

“And my opinion is obviously not something you are very interested in, otherwise you wouldn't be here.” She sounded miffed, but stoically and carefully redressed some of the still inflamed skin after checking on the condition of the wound. One would think that most of his injuries had been healed after such a long time, but infection had dragged out the process. It had finally abated and started to heal for real. Genji looked down, then quickly away, the feeling of disgust at his own body nearly making him physically sick. Instead he looked to the window. Bolted shut – just a transfer from one cell to another apparently – but he could see the cloudy sky outside and the silhouettes of his enemies in the reflecting light of the glass.

The soldier stoically held his place, clearing his throat uncomfortably. His gaze cut to the healer working on Genjis wounds, before settling back on Genji.

“We would like to make a deal with you, Mr. Shimada.”

Despite himself, Genji flinched. Shimada… he had always been that, but could he truly still lay claim on the name after…

Breathing suddenly seemed harder, as if an iron band had wrapped itself around his lungs and was slowly constricting them in its hold, but he forced the air in and out of his lungs by sheer force of will. He wished he could allow himself to press his eyes close and put his hands over his ears, like he had when he was small and the thunder had frightened him. Back then it had been a comfort to have his b- But he was already in a weakened state, on his own and the only way he knew to keep himself safe and to survive was to observe these people very carefully until a chance to escape presented itself to him. Escape where and with his body in this condition... that was an entirely other problem.

“I know you can understand English, Mr. Shimada.”

The man continued, despite Genji not reacting to him. The repeated use of his name made Genji finally look back at him, if only so he could pay attention to the man’s body language.

“We offer to rebuild your body in exchange for information.” The hands wrapping bandages around his arm stilled, before continuing. Genji barely paid attention to her.

Genji stared, not sure he had heard quite right. Re… build? His body? Maybe he wasn’t quite as fluent in English as he had thought he was, for surely he must have heard wrong. One didn’t rebuild bodies, especially not bodies as broken as his was. He would know.

“I assure you we have the means and the technology to get you back in shape. In fact, depending on your cooperation, we would like to extend further aid along the way if you are interested.”

His mouth suddenly felt dry. He had no illusions about what his life would become like if he stayed as he was. He had no future. He was crippled and without any means to help his situation, no money and no name to himself. In fact, Genji was pretty sure he was also legally dead to the world. He didn’t exist, H- **he** would have made sure of that.

Genji tried to swallow again, but his tongue seemed stuck to his palate. There was an awkward silence, until finally the man sighed.

“I will let you think on it.” his gaze softened when they looked at Angela who was just finishing with Genji’s arm and studiously ignoring him.

“I’ll see you afterwards, Doc.” he said, then left the room. The door gave a quiet hiss as it opened and a dull thunk as it closed.

Doctor Ziegler huffed out another breath after he was gone, shaking her head and clearing her throat. She put on a smile.

“Alright. Let’s see how the rest of you is healing, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally finished another chapter for this story, though I'm currently slow in updating anything. And I'm not sure this story will hit off so we will see how far I will take it :)

**Author's Note:**

> I started this Story because [auberghyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/auberghyn/pseuds/auberghyn) convinced me to write a story in the overwatch genre and then proceeded to convince me to give a Gency story a try. In return she gets spammed with all the shit I'm coming up with in advance :P 
> 
> We shall see how it goes. I hope I will find an Ending but I'm writing as I go. I might finish this or not!
> 
> Share your thoughts :)


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